


Choice

by stinghy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Clones, Drabble, Gen, Introspection, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Pre-Canon, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stinghy/pseuds/stinghy
Summary: Astronauts go into space with a certain type of resolution. While space is no longer the treacherous unknown it once was, there is always the risk, a chance of death—because out there, the emptiness is unforgiving.Shiro-centric introspection





	Choice

Astronauts go into space with a certain type of resolution. While space is no longer the treacherous unknown it once was, there is always the risk, a chance of death—because out there, the emptiness is unforgiving.

They say it's usually pilot error. A single slip up could spell the end. But they forget spacecrafts aren't built perfect. A chunk of foam breaks off, knocks a single tile loose, and BLAM! The explorers burn up in the atmosphere. It's not a safe job.

But it's worth it.

The thrill that comes with going where no man has before, of boldly stepping forth toward uncharted seas, of unearthing the truth of the universe, is too alluring.

It's this fantastical ideal that draws Shiro in. As a child, he dreamed of touching the stars; grasping them in his childish and chubby fingers, they melted in his palms, oozed between the cracks of his nails, and permeated into his very being. But whenever he awoke, the stars fell from the sky, and he was only left with lingering phantoms of want. He always thought something was missing.

Now, he knows that thing had been Black.

Maybe everything could have been different. He could have settled down, even with this ever growing sense of missing, if not for one overwhelming desire. What he wants more than anything in the world (because while the world has bounds, space is always growing) is purpose.

Shiro had family back on Earth, those whom he cared for, and those who cared from him. But even that could not deter him. Day in and day out, he trained to leave this world behind. He said his goodbyes and made amends; when his life was at risk, he couldn't just leave on bad terms with anyone. It was only through his resolution that he didn't cave in when someone begged him to just stay.

After all, fate demanded otherwise.

Voltron is more than just them, a bedraggled group of humans. Voltron is the universe. Despite the responsibilities that come with its mantle, they were always meant to be Voltron. For years, those markings had remained etched on cavern walls, awaiting them, calling them. There was a reason Blue was on Earth. There was a reason they each fit into their lions like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

There was a reason, but there was never a choice.

* * *

 

Though it is composed of the fragmented remains of a comet, Voltron is sentient. It breathes through its Paladins, whispers into their ears, serenades them to sleep. Each Lion speaks to its brethren, all connected in an unlikely patchwork of personalities.

Green is finicky but unwavering. Everything has a place, and everything's in its place; but it is due to this perfection that she will never give in.

Yellow is wary but steadfast. Once her trust is gained and her heart is opened, she will give everything she has to others.

Blue is flighty but level-headed. Unlike Yellow, she trusts easily; clear as the ocean blue, she is the least likely to be blinded by emotions.

Red is brash but courageous. For those she cares about, she will dash into the midst of battle with no regard to her own wellbeing

And Black... Black is the stubborn head, the decision maker, the one who shoulders the most of their mission. Because while the body is held together by four limbs, only one can be the leader of Voltron. And, despite its metal plating and artificially lit interior, Voltron is alive. Every pulse, every movement, every thought of a living body can be traced through nerve cells, and they all originate in the same place.

Likewise, while a person could live for a short time missing a limb, to cut off one's head is to cut off their life.

* * *

 

Movies always got it wrong. Dying in space is not slowly freezing until the heart stops beating. No, it's not the creeping cold; rather, it's a rapid explosion of pain as the body collapses in on itself like a firework.

Maybe either of those endings would have been better. Both beat slowly having life drained from your body while seeing the people you treasure most fall to ruin... and you can only watch—watch as someone else takes your place. It hurts too much to bear, seeing them blissfully unaware. Like lambs to the slaughter, they trust the clone who looks just like you.

And there's nothing you can do.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter. I post doodles and stuff: https://twitter.com/Stinghynachos
> 
> Crossposted on fanfiction.net
> 
> Thanks to Star (https://twitter.com/staraptures) for beta.


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